


A Court of Answered Dreams (Rhys' POV)

by ThePrettiestHell



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9859229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrettiestHell/pseuds/ThePrettiestHell
Summary: Sarah J. Maas' A Court of Mist and Fury from Rhysand's POV. Begins when Rhys says goodbye to Feyre Under the Mountain and into ACOMAF. Though I'll never be able to reach the greatness of SJM, I'm going to try my best to stick to the plot while inserting some new material. All respective stuff belongs to SJM. *Spoilers*





	1. Chapter 1

Breathing out a sigh, Rhysand looked out at the snowcapped mountains as he let his wings unfurl behind him. The High Lord of the Night Court relished in the feeling of the cold air nipping at the sensitive flesh and the freedom behind it. After fifty years, he was free and it was all because of Feyre; Amarantha was dead, his powers were back, and he could finally return home.

There was one thing left to do before he could though. He could feel that Feyre was sleeping through the bond that they shared, but he tugged on that thread anyways. The High Lord heard the sound of her footsteps, turning to face the opening of the stairwell, and couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched Feyre hiss and shield her eyes from the sun.

“I forgot that it’s been a while for you,” Rhys voiced as he tucked his wings into his body. It had been over three months since she arrived Under the Mountain, and unlike him, she hadn’t had the chance to sneak outside given the circumstances. 

Rhysand watched as Feyre took in the land around them: the vibrant mountains that surrounded the drab mountain that they stood on. He silently willed her to look at him and like a prayer being answered, she did. Her blue-gray eyes scanned his body, his wings, before meeting his gaze.

“What do you want?” She tried to snap, but the question was more bite than bark. He could sense the storm within her mind, but everything was moving too quickly for him to pick up anything from her unshielded thoughts. 

The wind blew Feyre’s scent towards him, it was as intoxicating as the first time they met. “Just to say goodbye,” he answered moments later. “Before your beloved whisks you away forever.”

“Not forever,” Feyre responded as she wiggled her fingers at him. The deep blue ink stood out against her fair skin, the eye in the center of her palm winking at him. “Don’t you get a week every month?” The bite in her tone made Rhysand wince internally, his wings the only sign that he was a little uncomfortable with her words. 

With a small smile, the High Lord asked, “How could I forget?”

“Why?” Feyre asked, the question catching him a little off guard.

To save you, he wanted to say, but he had an image to uphold, so instead he shrugged, a seemingly careless movement. “Because when the legends get written, I didn’t want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn’t do anything useful.”

Feyre blinked at his answer, looking him right in the eyes, and he continued, “Because I didn’t want you to fight alone. Or die alone.”

No one deserved to die alone. When the time came for him to leave this world, Rhysand could only hope that someone would deem him worthy enough to do the same for him. 

“Thank you,” Feyre seemed to struggle to say. 

Rhys forced a grin onto his face. “I doubt you’ll be saying that when I take you to the Night Court.” Feyre turned away from him and looked toward the mountains surrounding them. 

“Are you going to fly home?” She asked quietly.

A soft laugh escaped from Rhysand. He would have loved to fly home, he missed the feeling of the wind beneath his wings and the sight of the lands under him, but the moment the curse was broken, he could feel the impatience from his Inner Circle, restlessly awaiting his return. “Unfortunately, it would take longer than I can afford. Another day, I’ll taste the skies again.”

Once again, Feyre looked over his body and his wings, still tucked in behind him. “You never told me you loved the wings—or the flying,” she said, her voice hoarse.

He gave another shrug. “Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me. I tell very few about the wings. Or the flying.” 

His little sister. His mother. His city. His friends. He had lost so much. If Amarantha knew of his wings, of his love for taking flight, she would have made sure to keep him Under the Mountain, trapped. He wouldn’t have survived that loss. 

“How does it feel to be a High Fae?” He asked the newly Made woman before him. The change suited her well, from the strength beneath her new Fae skin to the slight point her ears now ended in. Her eyes darkened at the question and once again turned away from him.

“I’m an immortal—who has been mortal. This body…this body is different, but this” –she placed a hand over her heart— “this is still human. Maybe it always will be. But it would have been easier to live with it...” She paused. “Easier to live with what I did if my heart had changed, too. Maye I wouldn’t care so much; maybe I could convince myself their deaths weren’t in vain. Maybe immortality will take that away. I can’t tell whether I want it to.”

Rhysand stared at her back, enough time passing that she turned back to him. He could understand what she was feeling, why she would have wanted a hardened heart, but he was glad it was unchanged. “Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.”

She just nodded, so he continued on, “Well, goodbye for now.” 

Being one for dramatics, Rhysand bowed at the waist, making his wings vanish using his fully replenished magic. The shadows began to beckon to him and his body went rigid. Every fiber of his being seemed to be drawn to the woman before him, taut with longing. It felt as if everything had clicked into place, as if his life had meaning after everything he had done and that meaning was standing in front of him. He locked eyes with Feyre’s, knowing his violet eyes were wide with absolute shock. His nostrils flared and he breathed in her scent again. He stumbled back a step—nothing made him falter, nothing, but this…

She was his mate.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. His mind chanted at him. Every instinct was telling him to grab her and winnow away, but her couldn’t. Tamlin had his talons so deep in her heart and no matter the situation, as long as Feyre was happy. If he took her away from Tamlin, she would hate him with every piece of herself and Rhys couldn’t handle that though. He would do nothing, even if she was his mate. 

He had to get out of there. 

“What is—“ Feyre started to say, but the High Lord had already winnowed away.


	2. Chapter 2

Mate. I had a mate. 

Never in my five hundred years of existence had I allowed myself to toy with the idea that I might have had a mate somewhere in the world. After everything I had done, to avenge my family’s death, to protect my home and friends from Amarantha, the murdering and the torture, I didn’t deserve a mate.

I definitely did not deserve someone like Feyre. Perhaps it was a good thing that she was in love with Tamlin. She deserved to live an unburdened life and if she was happy with the rutting High Lord of Spring, maybe with time, I would learn to live with it. There was a tug in the pit of my stomach and it had nothing to do with my winnowing the hell away from the mountain.

Completely unhinged, I could hardly concentrate on the fact that after fifty years, the scent of jasmine was surrounding me and I was finally home. My knees almost buckled as my mind screamed at me. Feyre, Feyre, Feyre. I barely even noticed as my golden-haired cousin crashed into me.

“Rhys,” she said in a breathless sigh. Her eyes scanned over my body to check for any injuries, I assumed. A second passed before she punched me in the arm, hard, apparently deeming me to be in good enough condition to do so. “I am going to pummel you.”

I only stared at her, desperation probably clear on my face. “She’s my mate.”

There were very few moments that I could remember that had left Morrigan speechless, yet here she was, gaping at me like a fish that had been pulled out of the water. To her defense, I wasn’t faring any better. Running a hand through my hair, I loosed a breath as Mor collected herself.

“What did you say?”

“I found my mate,” I said in a whisper. “And she’s in love with someone else. She broke Amarantha’s curse, wrecking herself to do so, and she did it all for…for Tamlin.” 

“Come here, Rhys,” Mor said quietly, pulling me to one of the small alcoves that lined the hallway and gently shoved me towards one of the plush chairs before gracefully settling down in the other. “Okay, now talk.”

A light breeze rustled the gossamer curtains and I looked out between the pillars at the familiar mountains, mountains that I hadn’t seen in decades. Running my fingers over the upholstery that I sat on, I turned back to Mor. 

Fifty years. I had not seen Mor in half a decade so I just looked at her. She was unchanged, except she looked older, but it was not because fifty years had passed. 

That is your fault too, a little voice in my head said. 

In order to protect my court, my family, everything left that I loved, I had chained Mor and the rest of my Inner Circle to the shield that I threw around Velaris before the curse was fully in effect. To protect our city, they had to stay safe within the Night Court. I knew that they, Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel, would have fought tooth and nail to save me. They would have died for me and no matter how angry they were at my decisions, I couldn’t let that happen.

Everything spilled out before I even made the decision to explain things to Mor. I was so unhinged, my words became more and more frantic as I told her about the things Amarantha commanded me to do, my dreams of a human girl, meeting Feyre on Calanmai, and my trips to the Spring Court. 

By the time I got to talking about the trials Under the Mountain, about the bargain, about Feyre’s death, I don’t think my cousin was breathing. She was looking at me with wide eyes, once again speechless. When I was finished, I let out a shaky breath, combing my fingers through my hair.

A few seconds passed. “Go get her,” Mor said finally. “I’ll even hold Tamlin down while you whisk Feyre away. I could use a new female friend. As much as I enjoy Amren’s presence, Amren is Amren.”

I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, but sobered quickly. “I can’t do that, Mor.”

“Why the hell not?” 

“She’d hate me, Mor. If I steal her away, she will spend the rest of eternity detesting me and I think that would destroy me more than having her love another male,” I started. “It took three months for her to even look at me like I was somewhat of a decent person. As long as she’s alive, as long as she’s happy, I will learn to live with it.”

When I had led Feyre to find me after Amarantha had been defeated, she had looked so sad and tired, but she looked at me like I was worth something. That look on her face, something other than hate or disgust, it meant everything. I had almost, almost, let her out of the bargain right then and there, but I had been selfish and couldn’t. 

“That is bullshit, Rhysand,” Mor said through gritted teeth. “You’re telling me that you’re going to live with the fact that your mate lives in an enemy court, loving its High Lord, sharing his b—“

“Mor,” I cut her off so quietly that I was unsure whether she even heard me. “Please. Just please… I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I let my head fall into my hands.

I heard her huff in response before soft footsteps approached me; she perched on the armrest of my chair before wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Lifting my head, I placed my hand on her forearm, took a deep breath, and thanked my cousin for her understanding.

“On a scale of one to someone stealing jewelry from Amren, how mad is everyone?” I asked Mor.

“At the beginning, we were all pissed at you for leaving us behind, for chaining us to Velaris, but we understood why you did it,” Mor started to answer. “Over the years, I think the anger faded and the fact that we might never see you again hit us. When that happened, we decided that we wouldn’t let your decision be in vain.”

“Good,” was all I said in response.

“Let’s go home, Rhys,” Mor replied quietly, standing and pulling him to his feet. “I told the others to stay in Velaris, but they’re waiting for us.”

“I think I’m going to stay here tonight.” Seeing Mor was one thing, but facing the rest of his Inner Circle, he needed some time to prepare himself for that reunion. His brothers in arms and his Second in command had waited fifty years, they would have to wait a little bit longer. “Alone.”

Mor nodded in understanding. She placed a comforting hand on my bicep before she winnowed back to Velaris.

Ҩ

I jolted awake in the middle of the night, the sheets around me damp with sweat and shredded under the talons that had clawed their way out. Darkness swirled around me, black and impenetrable. It took a huge amount of effort to pull it all back within him.

The nightmare would be one that would haunt me endlessly. Just thinking about it had my control on the darkness slipping. The sound of Feyre’s neck snapping and the light leaving her eyes, her dying, was the worst nightmare I had ever experienced. 

My heart was almost beating out of my chest and though I knew she was alive, I had to make sure. I let my mind slip along the bond that we shared. She was sleeping, relatively calmly it seemed and I let out a relieved breath. 

There was no way sleep would find me again, so I took a little time to prepare for my return to the Court of Dreams and the reunion with the last three members of my Inner Circle. 

When the sun found its way out between mountain peaks, I winnowed to Velaris before unfurling my wings, flying up to the House of Wind. Landing on one of the balconies, I walked through the set of open glass doors into the dining room where my Inner Circle were eating their breakfast and smiled at the sight.

Azriel and Cassian seemed to be on the brink of tossing food at each other, arguing about something or another. Amren was sitting across from them, picking at her nails with the point of a dagger and smirking at the pair of Illyrian warriors like she knew something they didn’t and she undeniably did. Mor was just laughing out right.

Everything seemed so normal, they had survived without me and I was glad, even as my heart ached at the sight.

Sliding a smirk onto my face, I finally spoke. “You four are a sad excuse of an Inner Circle if you can’t even detect the arrival of your favorite High Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are supposed to be some italics, but I'm not code savvy...


	3. Chapter 3

Cassian and Azriel looked completely flabbergasted at my sudden appearance in the House of Wind. Thanks to the glamour I put in place, my arrival had gone undetected. Even Amren looked the teensiest bit surprised and I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. 

My Inner Circle rose from their seats in unison, each of them crossing their right arms to rest their hands over their hearts and bowed. It was a gesture full of respect and loyalty, one they were offering to me even after everything I had done. I had done deplorable things. I had abandoned them. I had become Amarantha’s whore. My heart ached and I smiled at them.

“So dramatic, all of you,” I said with a genuine laugh. 

It was Cassian who spoke first. “We did learn from the best.” 

I hugged each member of my Inner Circle before we settled back down at the table, me in the seat I sat in fifty years ago across from Azriel. Being seated there, seeing that each and every one of them was safe, happy even, it made my half century Under the Mountain all worthwhile. I would gladly do it all over again if it meant protecting the four most important people in my life.

The only thing missing as Feyre. My mate.

“It’s good to have you back, Rhysand,” Azriel said quietly, his hazel eyes flashing with mirth, light shadows swirling around him.

“It’s good to be back,” I said in answer.

“I’ll drink to that!” Mor exclaimed, a glass of wine appearing in her hand as four other appeared on the table along with a full bottle of wine.

“Morrigan, don’t you think it’s a bit early to celebrate?” the shadowsinger asked the blonde spitball that was my cousin. 

With an exaggerated eye roll, Mor downed the glass before reaching to refill it. “For Rhys’ return, I think not! Now drink,” she commanded. Not even Azriel turned her down, not that he ever could. 

Ҩ

By the time the sun was setting, the five of us were drunk, though that may have been an understatement. We had taken the festivities into one of the more comfortable rooms in the House of Wind, wine being passed around as we shared happenings of the last fifty years.

Cassian stood abruptly from his relaxed position and declared that it was time for dinner. It was decided that they would reconvene in ten minutes. I went to my rooms, sloppily running my fingers over the walls then the silky sheets on the bed, and changed into fresh clothes. Turning to the mirror, I ran a hand through my dark hair, not liking how the paleness of my skin looked in contrast. I brushed nonexistent lint from my black tunic and pants before rejoining with my Inner Circle. 

Walking through Velaris, having my people greet me with smiles, welcoming me back, sobered me up very quickly. Mor was walking arm in arm with Azriel, a soft smile on his usually stoic face. Cassian, in his drunken state, was merrily sauntering behind them, his Siphons gleaming thanks to the light coming from various shop windows. 

Amren walked beside me at the back of our group, a necklace housing a giant emerald sitting below the hollow of her throat. I shoved my hands into my pockets and breathed in the smell of Velaris, the ever present scent of the sea, mixed with jasmine, and foods wafting from all directions.

“Thank you, Rhysand,” Amren said quietly, her black hair shifting slightly as she walked.

“For what?” I asked, a little confused. I could feel her silver eyes move toward me, but I still stared at Cass’ wings, currently tucked into his body.

“For all that you had to sacrifice to save us.”

There was nothing I could say in response, but I knew Amren wasn’t expecting a reply. I just turned to her and nodded, glad that she was a creature of few words. We arrived at the restaurant, the green and gold unchanged in the last five decades, and took up the table that had always belonged to my court.

The restaurant owner appeared before me, the smile bright against her lovely brown skin. “High Lord, welcome back!” My smile appeared on its own accord as she kissed my cheek, moving to do the same for each of my Inner Circle, only breaking the cycle to bow to Amren. 

It was two hours of eating endlessly, food and wine reappearing on the table just as quickly as it had gone. By the time we had all had our fill, I was almost tempted to have Cassian roll me back home. 

“Was everything to your liking?” the owner asked. 

“Excellent as ever,” I said in response. “Thank you.”

“For you, High Lord, anytime.” She had adamantly refused my money, but I left it all on the table as we left. Mor deciding for the group that it was long overdue for a trip to Rita’s down the street for dancing. I said goodbye to Amren and she snuck away to her own apartment, never being a fan of the crowded environment of the club.

My cousin dragged Azriel and me by the hand to the dance floor while Cassian went to get us drinks that were probably unnecessary. It was weird being back at Rita’s. I had never really been into the dancing scene, usually more content to watch Cassian flirt with anything in a dress and Mor try to loosen Az up. 

I knocked back the drink that Cassian handed me and did what I hadn’t done in decades. I let go. Mor laughed giddily as we danced, the place getting warmer by the second.

Just as a song ended, I heard something through my bond with Feyre that made my stomach drop. I could hear her moan the High Lord of Spring Court’s name. The walls to her mind wide open, I could see what she saw. Tamlin’s yellow hair was damp with sweat as he moved atop Feyre’s body—

I shoved the image out of my head, but it was ingrained in my mind. Another male was touching my mate, claiming her, and there was nothing I could fucking do about it without making Feyre hate me. I let out a noise somewhat between a roar and a groan, startling some nearby Fae, before storming towards the bar.

Downing three shots of liquor, I screwed my eyes shut, using my fingers to pinch the bridge of my nose. I could sense someone lean against the bar next to me, the vanilla and rose scent of her cloying and overwhelming.

“High Lord,” a golden-haired, blue-eyed High Fae purred at me as I lazily opened my eyes. “I’m so pleased that you’ve graced us with your presence tonight.”

It was a bit painful to plaster a lazy smile on my face. “A night out was much needed.”

“How about I make your night a little more interesting?” She ran a finger down my chest as I tried not to cringe, purposefully swaying her hips and puffing out her chest as she stepped in closer to me. I took a step away.

Help me. Help me. Help me. I silently sent to the members of my Inner Circle. I was not in the mood to deal with flirty, mostly sloshed females or males. 

The High Fae before me continued on, “I’ve always been very curious about your—“ 

“Rhys!” I sighed in relief as Cassian stumbled over, though I could tell he was mostly faking it for the female’s benefit. “I think it’s time to go ho-ome!” 

“I think so too, bud,” I gave him a clap on the back and shot a halfhearted look of regret to the female who actually pouted. 

When we got outside, I told Cassian that he could go back in, but I was going to head back to the house above the Court of Nightmares, suddenly exhausted. He nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time to push and watched me leave.

I winnowed out of Velaris, the sight of Tamlin on my mate still chafing my mind. I had no idea how I was going to survive the images for gods knew how long considering Feyre had no idea how to put her mental walls up. I was destined for this torture, but then again, I probably deserved it for everything I had done Under the Mountain. 

After a scalding bath, I lay in my bed, unable to fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tamlin’s rutting face above my mate’s, an animalistic look in his eyes. My black talons threatened to make an appearance, but I painfully willed them away. It was going to be a long night.

It wasn’t until hours later that I began to doze off, only to jolt awake, sprint to the adjoining bathing room, and dry heave into the toilet. The nightmare had been an endless line of ash daggers going through the hearts of Fae, blood everywhere. It was Feyre’s nightmare and it was Feyre who was puking her guts out, my nausea a side effect of the bond.

What pissed me off the most was the she was feeling absolutely alone, the High Lord of Spring still asleep. There was no way he slept through it all, so he was most likely completely ignoring the fact that his love was falling apart in the next room. It disgusted me.

I was half tempted to winnow to the Spring Court and punch him in the gut.

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are a few writers who do Rhys' POV, whether it be specific scenes or what I'm doing here. I had the urge to start so I did, but my writing has been sporadic at best since then. Hopefully you all enjoy it. 
> 
> Apologies for any grammatical errors. As much as I try to edit and proofread, I always miss something... Aside from the first chapter, the rest will be in first person since it's easier to write that way in this case. There are italicized parts...but I'm not savvy at HTML or any sort of code... 
> 
> Comments and input are always welcome!


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